The Signs
by fights
Summary: Superman finds out. Sequel to the Jitters. Pairing, Superman/Batman. SLASH.


**Title**: The Signs  
**Author/Artist**: Ol' Fighty (fights)  
**Fandom**: Batman: The Animated Series, Superman, Justice League  
**Rating**: NC-17  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Batman or Superman or either of their properties. Tackle on the Justice League Thar.  
**Warnings**: Blow job.  
**Summary**: Superman finds out. Sequel to the Jitters.. Pairing, Superman/Batman

-

* * *

Bruce Wayne clenched his fist, trying to refocus his desire. Failing to do so, he let out an exasperated sigh.

The third year and things only got worse, occasionally he would receive a call from Jor-El. It had always started off as a cordial conversation and then quickly disintegrated into mad bickering and arguments. In fact he was expecting a call, more threats from his dearest, deceased father-in-law right now. Bruce had cleared his schedule for it and sent his staff as far as possible as the yelling that ensued would definitely reach more than their ears. "The last thing I need is people wondering to as why I'm talking to the dead hologram Superman's father."

The phone rang on cue. Bruce only smirked, "Jor-El, your usual call. I was expecting you."

"He knows."

Bruce paled, lunging for his kryptonite. The lead box was wrenched from the drawer in anticipation. "When is he coming?"

"I'm already here."

Bruce's mouth twitched into a practiced smile, body rising from his comfy seat. "Superman, nice to see you."

Superman stalked forward, ignoring the window he had just shattered after bursting through it as break-neck speed. "Bruce, I raped you and you neglected to tell me why?"

Clark was gone and Kal-El looked livid. The terrifying alien from space that he was. His arms were folded, stare hard. Bruce refused to be intimidated, but struggled with the surprise.

"Kal-El," Superman winced at that name. Bruce found his mouth going dry, "I tried to stop you. It wasn't your fault. You weren't in control."

"This has been going on for three years," Superman ran his hand over his face. He tried to approach the man but realized that Bruce has been prepared—as always. "You're in pain, if this continues you'll die."

"In five years, Jor-El told me. What? I've got two more years left after this one." The Clark Kent in Superman stared at Bruce with utter shock. Bruce clicked open the box and stared at the kryptonite suggestively and clicked the box shut. "Look, Clark. I've been the hero, I've lived my life. I have three possible descendants who can become Batman. This is not about me not wanting you, or me being noble or heroic, no Kal-El. This is... wrong."

"But you'll die," Clark struggled, knowing that Bruce held his death in his hands and seeking to right the wrongs committed to his good friend.

"I'm fine with that."

"But why?" Clark asked, he looked so broken. His blue eyes sad. "Isn't there an alternative solution?"

Bruce's hand gripped the kryptonite, "No."

Superman took a step forward and suffered under the meteorite's green light. "Shit, Bruce. Stop."

"I'm serious, Clark. I would rather suffer everyday until the day I died than give birth to your child."

There was a pregnant pause. Unintentional. Bruce faltered, retracting his hand, pulling the stone closer to his body. Farther from Superman.

Finally, Bruce looked back to Superman who met his gaze. He closed his eyes, Clark never looked so miserable.

"Am I so horrible?" Bruce looked down at the crumpled for of Superman, struggling to gain leverage.

Bruce snapped the box shut with reluctance. "No, Clark."

The scene was familiar. Once again the kryptonite had been wrenched from his hand and thrown out of reach. Clark stood imposing, blocking Bruce from retrieving the meteorite until it was clear that Bruce knew better.

"Now we can talk," Superman was once again rigid, only some of the residual effects of the kryptonite remaining. Bruce sat back in his chair and folded his arms while Superman pulled up a chair to the front side of his desk. Bruce hung up the phone on Jor-El, who had long gone silent.

"Real mature, Superman. This has happened before, and the last time you raped me." Superman's expression turned into one of guilt. Bruce sighed. "Oh geez, I'm sorry Clark. I meant to hide it, I never wanted you to know, hold on—no, I don't need security, I'm just speaking to Superman. It's quite an urgent and private matter—okay, I'm sorry. I'm just..."

Bruce put the phone down and looked at the praised Metropolis hero.

"I should apologize. I can turn myself in, Bruce. I can hurl myself into the sun, because damn it I want to. You've always tried to help me," Superman was on the verge of tears. "I can't believe I did that to you. No wonder you've been avoiding me."

"Clark, I can't control if you're here. In late summer, when August comes it's the worst." Bruce grit his teeth, confessing, "I've had three years to get over what you've done inadvertently. just want you to fuck me, I don't know if I've always felt that way or it's a product of that," Bruce searched for the words, "or, some sort of breeding cycle. I've never wanted to have a child for that reason. I've always thought it would be out of an old-fashioned ideal." Bruce ended with a nonchalant hand wave.

"Love?" Clark responded, eyes glittering with hope.

"Because..." Clark looked up and down until Bruce's narrowing eyes cause him to steady his gaze. "I love you... I always have. I've always been afraid of telling you because you were Batman. Had I told you and we worked it out maybe this wouldn't have happened and maybe I'm babbling, Bruce, but I'm sorry if you think that you're loving me out of some biological purpose but I've always loved you because you were so wonderful."

Clark sat with his hand on the edge of his knees, face flushed red. Hand tugging at the material of his knees. Then he started to punch his knees out of bashfulness and due to the silence.

"Oh gosh," Bruce pressed his hands against his mouth, but the laughter pressed through and he was over his table. His hand reached out until Clark put his hand into Bruce's sweaty palm and the long enfolded over his. "All this time..."

-

Later that night, in one of Bruce's many apartment buildings Superman and Bruce Wayne met again. Only this time Superman had his back to the wall, cornered, tights and underwear to his ankles.

"Is it all right?" Clark attempts to ask before Bruce's mouth wrapped around Clark's cock. "GEEZ."

Bruce closed his eyes and concentrated carefully on what he was doing. Clark's fingers toyed with Bruce's collar.

There they were. Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne.

Kent and Wayne.

Clark struggled to remain human, not to draw on his super human strength and was glad when his knees began to weaken under Bruce's careful designs.

Clark could only babble incoherently, "they should call you Superman. I'm technically an alien and Bruce..."

"Bruce, shit," the sweat rolled down his face. His hips began to pump carefully into Bruce's mouth, "I love you."

"Bruce," he ejaculated and felt guilty almost instantly. Bruce pulled himself from Clark's loins, licking his lips carefully.

"Bruce I feel sorry, I mean, I am sorry. This isn't what you call a good first date. You're not pregnant right now, are you?"

Bruce looked up at the inhuman being that had just come in his mouth and sighed, "you idiot."

Bruce stood and did up his collar, "keep this up and I'll regret deciding to have your baby."

Clark helped Bruce stand and planted a chaste kiss on his cheek. Bruce tried to smile, he would learn soon enough being—becoming Superman's lover, it would be one of his responsibilities... Probably. Things had started off awkward, now Bruce was glad that Clark had chosen him out of something more than having a partner with a more stable mind.

"But seriously are you pregnant?"


End file.
